


don't you let me go tonight

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Healing, Post-Hive, Romance, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6630385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hive is defeated Coulson tries to help Daisy live with the nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't you let me go tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



**i.**

_Is it a nightmare when you are just reliving things you did? The faces of people you hurt? And when she wakes up they are here, the faces of the people she hurt, looking at her with love and worry. With things she doesn’t deserve. Like forgiveness. Saying things like how she doesn’t need to be forgiven. And that’s worse than a nightmare._

 

Even when everything is over - even when she saves everybody - Daisy doesn’t want to get out of the containment pod for the first week. She cages herself like a wild animal. 

Coulson stands outside every moment he has free, between dealing with the aftermath of everything and getting the team ready for future challenges - just because their greatest threat is gone it doesn’t mean the Inhumans are safe.

“You’re not a danger to anyone,” he reminds her when she refuses to let anyone inside, either. “You can come out.”

He watches her run her hands through her hair, pressing her fingers against her scalp as if trying to remember something important.

“I don’t know that,” she says, not looking at Coulson. She hasn’t looked at him in the eye just yet. “They are still in here, in my head. What if they tell me to hurt you again?”

His head still hurts from what Daisy did to him, but that wasn’t Daisy. And whoever that was is not a threat anymore.

“They won’t,” he says, desperate to find words, any word, that might comfort her. “Hive is dead. You made sure of that.”

She turns her back to him, grabbing the blanket and lying on the bed again.

Coulson wonders if he’s making the right call here, letting her be, letting her stay in this cell. She has barely slept since everything ended - she tries, waking up in a panic, from what looks like horrifying nightmares. Coulson knows a bit about horrifying nightmares, but nothing like what Daisy seems to be going through. It seems like fate: whatever horrors he faces the tides in the universe have decided Daisy should face even worse torment.

It’s not fair.

Especially because he’s the one to blame here. If he hadn’t been so set on his revenge on Grant Ward then Daisy wouldn’t be here, curled up under a SHIELD-issued blanket, locking herself away from the world because she fears she might damage it again.

His selfishness led here: to Daisy feeling like a monster again.

His selfishness is still what makes him desperate to do anything that might help. 

“Do you want me to go away?” he asks. He’s spent days out here outside her cell, getting about as much sleep as her.

At first she doesn’t answer and Coulson wonders if he should take it that she doesn’t want him here. He’s half-decided to walk away when he hears a small-voiced “No” through the glass.

 

_Is it even a nightmare if you are in a better place? The only moment in her life where Daisy had felt at peace with herself was when she was part of the hivemind._

_“And you killed us,” they say in her nightmares. She was still connected to them when she did it - the connection was never severed, not even when she was herself again, not even after she killed them - and she could feel the betrayal firing at her brain cells when she locked Hive in that quinjet._

_How could she do that? they still ask._

_How could you do that? she asks herself in dreams._

 

“Coulson…” he hears her call, like she’s in pain.

For a moment he’s confused, not knowing where he is. He’s fallen asleep outside the post. He’s been doing that five nights in a row.

When he looks inside Daisy is sitting on the bed, knees pulled against her chest and face hidden against her legs. But he can see she’s crying.

“Daisy. Do you…?” he swears he can do this, he can. “Do you want me to come in?”

Daisy doesn’t say a word but she nods furiously.

Coulson hits the security pad and opens the door. He’s been wanting to do this from the beginning, but he couldn’t, not without Daisy’s permission. He sits on the bed with her, careful not to crowd her at first. He recognizes her fearful, shaken expression. He has seen it in the mirror many times. She’s woken up from a nightmare. A bad one.

It hurts so much to think about how many horrible nightmares she is going to have from now on.

Thinking about that - the sleepless nights, the waking up in a panic with her heart in her throat - Coulson takes her in his arms, how could he not. Daisy cries harder, pressing her mouth against his shirt.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Coulson says, whispering into her neck as he buries his face into her body too. “I did this. I brought him back. It’s all my fault.”

Daisy doesn’t say anything, sobs into his chest, and silence is acquiescence, agreement, and Daisy’s blame somehow feels sweeter than her forgiveness would have been. It makes Coulson feel less alone. 

 

**ii.**

_Not sleeping is easier but she still finds herself in her own body. Her own world-destroying dangerous body. She refuses Simmons’ sleeping pills because she doesn’t want to feel out of control ever again. No drugs. No sleep - because in her sleep she can’t decide. They come for her and force her to do horrible things all over again. In her nightmares she is not in control. It feels too much like it did, being away and under their command. Sleep feels too much like surrendering again, like being too weak to fight them off again. Awake she can have the illusion her body is hers again. World-destroying, dangerous, but hers._

 

He hears noises in the kitchen and he half-knows it’s Daisy, and he half-hopes it’s not, he hopes she’s in her bunk having a quiet, dreamless night.

But he knows that’s not happening any time soon.

He has seen her trying to get back to work, pushing herself both with training (he has seen her be too careful on the shooting range and the mats, as if she no longer trusts her capacity to stop herself, to _not hurt people_ ), while the dark under her eyes spreads. For someone like Daisy, that much empathy, that much kindness inside of her, what happened was worse than any nightmare she could have.

But that doesn’t mean the nightmares don’t get to her anyway.

“You want one?” she asks him when Coulson catches her drinking a cup of coffee.

He shakes his head.

“I only came in here because I heard noises,” he admits. “Are you okay?”

She blinks at him, slowly, like it’s a stupid question because of-fucking-course, she’s not okay. How could she be? At least she’s not lying to him and trying to pretend everything's okay. If he’s honest he was expecting her to do that, because it’s very Daisy-like and it a way it would have been easier for him. If she pretended everything was fine Coulson could pretend too.

She finishes her coffee, leaning back against the counter. In her pajamas - sweatpants and a tank top, rather than pajamas - Coulson realizes how much weight she has lost. He worries. He wonders if he should speak to Simmons about it, but feels bad about going behind Daisy’s back.

“You need more rest,” he tells her. “I doubt drinking coffee at three in the morning is going to help you.”

She shrugs. “That so-called rest isn’t helping.” She shakes her head. “That’s not rest, that’s…”

She stops herself, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Coulson presses.

“Nightmares?”

She gives him a hard look, like she’s judging him for egging her on. Then her eyes soften and he can see _really_ how tired she is. She nods imperceptibly.

Coulson tries to hug her - like in the pod - thinking it will comfort her, but Daisy stops her, one hand up against his chest.

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells her.

Her fingers lingers over his heart, dropping to his stomach, for a moment. Daisy bites her bottom lip. Then she leaves him, alone, in the kitchen.

 

**iii.**

_The worst nightmares are the ones that make her think she can change things._

_If she only struggled a little harder._

_The dreams in which she relives everything all over, feeling like if only she had fought harder against the hivemind’s control, none of this would have happened. The dreams in which she breaks free, and saves all those Inhumans. The dreams in which she never hurt anyone because she was strong enough to stop herself._

_Those are the worst, the ones in which she fights to get free, and the ones in which she does get free. Because then she wakes up and remembers she never did. Not in time, anyway._

 

Perhaps sharing a room wasn’t the best idea but Coulson didn’t want to leave her on her own this trip. It’s not that he is being overprotective or thinks she can’t do this - he wouldn’t have brought her along on this mission if he didn’t think she could do it, if he didn’t need her. He just thought he’d appreciate the company. God knows he does, and the evening had been almost pleasant. He and Daisy had been working on the file of the Inhuman they had met today, and when they got weary and got stuck they watched bad local tv and ate a ton of junk from the vending machine.

It had been almost nice, and Coulson realizes he didn’t want Daisy to be alone but… he didn’t want to be alone either.

That’s why it throws him off more than it should have - he knows about the nightmares - when he wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of Daisy struggling against a bad dream.

At first he tries calling her name without touching her, in case touching her makes things worse.

When that doesn’t work he closes her fingers around her shoulder - still too sharp, but getting better, and her appetite for chocolate bars and sweet chilli coated peanuts was encouraging in its own way - and shakes her lightly.

She stirs awake, her body a bit cold - Coulson has gone through that himself so he gets into the small twin bed with her and gently wraps one arm behind her back, pulling her against him. Daisy seems to accept the offer of comfort this time. Maybe that’s progress, or maybe just exhaustion. He reaches over to the bedside table and hands her the glass of water.

“Thank you.”

“Did I put you back on the field too soon?” he asks her.

“No, no,” she hurries to tell him. “I like being back in the field. This is…”

She gestures hopelessly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Coulson…”

She fixes him a kind look, lifting her hand to touch his temple.

Like he is the one in need of comforting here.

Well, that’s very Daisy. Very Skye too - he remembers it’s one of the things that drew Coulson to her, back when she was just Skye.

Then she narrows her eyes at him, finding the injured spot on his hairline.

“This is… from what I did to you?” she asks.

The wound has since long healed but a little scar, a little trace on his scalp, remains.

He nods.

“But it’s okay, I’m okay now.”

He doesn’t try his usual “it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t you” rhetoric. He just wants to let her know, it’s over. The nightmare finished. What she’s feeling is just the remembrance of it.

But she keeps touching him, pressing her thumb against the tiny line of his scar.

Coulson swallows, suddenly aware they are in the same bed, in their pajamas, and embracing.

It seems like something it’s shifting, changing, with the way Daisy is touching his head now, tenderly but with a strange sense of tension between their bodies. He feels himself waiting for something he can’t name. But then, as quickly as it built up, it’s over, the pressure is gone, the moment has slipped from their hands before they know what it.

He ends up staying in her bed, anyway, pressing his chest against her back as he holds her through the night. She doesn’t wake up again, not tonight. But that doesn’t mean Coulson can’t feel the bad dreams in the way her body moves, cuddled against his, all the time. It just means she’s having nightmares she doesn’t wake up from.

 

**iv.**

_Is it a nightmare when it’s the happiest you’ve ever felt? Daisy knows it’s fake. Even in dreams she knows it’s fake. She always knew. The soothing voice of the hivemind overtaking any individual thought, saying “you have hurt for so long, you can stop now”. It becomes a nightmare when Daisy realizes she will have to wake up - to a world that’s cold and sharp-edged and lonely, so lonely. Only her voice in her head._

 

He tries shaking her awake, like the other times.

They were working in his office - profiling suspects, doing the case’s groundwork together - and Daisy had fallen asleep on the big chair. Coulson had smiled at her sleeping frame, after weeks of looking exhausted, and had gone on working without her until he heard her stir in her seat.

When he finally manages to wake her up Daisy wraps her hands around Coulson’s arms, under his elbows, so hard it hurts a bit. Coulson remembers Daisy _hurting him_ for a moment, when Hive told her to. The memory only lasts for a split of a second - until remembers it wasn’t really Daisy who hurt him, just her body - but it spooks him a bit. Then he realizes Daisy is sobbing quietly.

It’s not like when she finally cried in the cell. There was relief there, mixed with the pain. 

“Daisy?”

Her sobs sound like despair now.

“I was so happy,” she tells him, looking straight at him, like she’s telling him a very important secret. It’s not a secret - but she hasn’t said it out loud yet. “I know it wasn’t real but it hurts… to have lost that. I was happy, Coulson. I was _complete_.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs while he kisses her forehead.

Once Daisy loosens the grip on his arms he gets up and goes to the drinks cabinet.

“Thanks,” she mutters, standing up, when he gives her a glass.

“I miss it, that’s the worst part,” she confesses to him, drinking slowly.

He nods, but he can’t presume to understand. For someone like Daisy feeling like she’s part of something bigger has a particular effect. It doesn’t matter if it was a fake. It’s a feeling she’s craved her whole life. And she gave it up - because it was the right thing to do. But it must hurt like hell. She deserves better than him feeling guilty about that too, and he doesn’t say it out loud anymore, but he can’t stop thinking about it. He did this to her. Hive did this to her, but in a way he’s just as responsible as that parasite.

Before he realizes Daisy has finished her scotch.

She takes the glass out of his hand too, and puts it down of the desk.

“Daisy?”

She presses her mouth against his without warning - without logic or explanation.

At first he can only taste the scotch on her mouth. His right hand travels, immediately and seemingly beyond Coulson’s control, down the small of her back to hold her lightly as he kisses back. There’s nothing gentle about her mouth, she captures his lips with hunger and desperation.

“I hurts to feel so empty,” she whispers against his mouth. “Help me.”

Her voice reminds Coulson of when she was locked up, tiny, terrified of hurting any more people. Coulson holds her closer, willing to give her whatever she needs.

Daisy grabs the wrist of his prosthetic, guiding Coulson between her thighs, pressing his fingers against her body as she sits back on his desk, spreading her legs open. Her left hand pulls at her hair, right where the little scar she gave him still shows.

Coulson wants to ask if she’s sure about this, but she asked him for help, not doubts. He strokes her through the fabric of her sweatpants, pressing hard until a relieved moan escapes her throat. Kissing Daisy, feeling her body shake with desire against him, is like a dream come true, but Coulson can’t forget it comes from a nightmare.

“Yes. Like that,” she tells him, touching her lips against Coulson’s neck.

He wants to help her, comfort her, but touching her, Daisy touching him intimately, forces Coulson to face up a lot of stuff he had been avoiding for _years_. He feels he’s betraying her by being aroused right now, and he feels he’s betraying her even worse by having fallen in love with her, a lot time agone.

She drops pleading words against his bloodbeat, kissing his neck, and Coulson slips his hand under her pants and underwear. Daisy wanted him to touch her with his prosthetic hand, and he understands why, but he regrets a bit not being able to feel it properly, when he pushes two fingers into and Daisy clenches around him and he doesn’t even have to do anything else, she comes as soon as she feels him inside her.

She kisses his mouth as she comes down from the orgasm. Coulson is stunned, not knowing what to do. He thought he had more time. More time for what? To fuck her? No, to show her how much she’s loved and cared for.

But Daisy is already pulling his hand out of her clothes and getting down from the desk. It’s awkward but it’s not _horrible_. Coulson doesn’t feel dirty as he thought. And suddenly Daisy is thanking him before she leaves and he’s not sure what’s happened here, or what’s going to happen from here on.

He wants to tell her something - it’s really important, he thinks - but it’s too late and suddenly he can’t remember the words.

 

**v.**

_It’s not a nightmare if you’re awake but it can be a moment of remembrance and throw you off your game. Daisy remembers how hard she tried to hide things from the hivemind. Things that would make it easier to hurt the team. How hard she tried to hide herself, pieces of herself she knew were dangerous. Pieces she knew the hivemind would use against her._

_She had tried to hide Coulson from it._

_But the hivemind found her out and it was repulsed by it. It was angry. It punished Coulson for it. It made Daisy punish him, use her powers on him and throw him across the room like a broken doll._

 

“Daisy,” he says when he reaches her side, out of breath and surprised to be alive.

He wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for her. If she hadn’t flung that Hydra goon against the wall Coulson would have a bullet to his head now.

Daisy looks distracted for a second here; he recognizes her expression, has seen it on many agents over the years. She’s remembering something unpleasant. He wonders if it was a good idea bringing her into a combat op so soon. On the other hand without her presence here today Coulson would be there.

She shakes herself out of it.

“You okay?” she asks Coulson, wrapping her hand around his shoulder.

He nods. “Thanks to you,” he tells her. “Let’s go get the hostages.”

Back in the Zephyr she comes into his cabin with two glasses of scotch.

Coulson tenses for a moment, thinking she’s going to bring up what happened in his office, after a week of silence in which he guessed she had decided to forget. But it’s soon clear that’s not the mood here. She keeps rubbing at the bruise on her cheek like she’s proud of it, and there’s something almost _professional_ about the drink they are sharing now.

“It does feel better,” she says. “Saving lives, protecting people. It helps.”

“Maybe that’s how we do it,” Coulson offers. He feels the same. What he did is never going away, but days like today feel a little closer to being okay.

“Atonement,” Daisy says.

“You don’t need it,” he tells her.

She nods. “I know that,” she says, and it shocks him a bit, because it’s the first time he’s heard it say it out loud. He wonders if it helped, their night together. “But I want it.”

He understands.

“You saved my life out there,” he says.

Her gaze clouds for a moment and Coulson knows she must be thinking about the time she almost killed him, using pretty much the same technique she used to get rid of the enemy today.

It lasts a moment - her sadness, her troubled faces, they last less and less each day - and then she gives him a shy smile from behind her glass.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

 

**vi.**

_She once read - because when she was in the system she made it her business to know these things - that it’s normal to dream about your parents around your birthday. What it’s not normal, she guesses, is having dreams about your mother trying to kill you. Which is a memory, more than a dream. Except this time Jiaying stops trying to kill her and looks at her and gives her a dream-creepy smile._

_“I’m going to be so proud of you,” dream!Jiaying tells Daisy._

_She takes Daisy’s hands in hers._

_“So proud, my little monster.”_

_No, Daisy wants to tell her, wants to retreat from her. She’s not a monster._

_But Jiaying is embracing her, crushing her against her own body._

_“You’ll grow into such destruction, my lovely monster.”_

 

She looks cranky the whole day, and Coulson already knew she doesn’t like birthdays (he had hoped that could change, with her being in SHIELD and having a new family, but that won’t be this year) and didn’t want anybody bothering her today. He talked to Jemma and Mack about it and while they all wish her happy birthday during the day and Joey even got her some flowers (“Not daisies, though. Tendría que haber traído margaritas” and Daisy tells him it’s okay, she likes white roses too) Coulson makes sure there’s no surprise party or anything.

He knows Daisy doesn’t want a big celebration but he also knows she’d appreciate a little gesture.

And he knows her habits, so it’s not hard to ambush her when she makes one of her two-in-the-morning visits to the base’s kitchen.

“I knew you’d come by,” he tells her.

“God, you startled me,” she says, and chuckles and bit and god it feels so good to hear her laugh that Coulson almost forgets why he’s here. Daisy reminds him, raising an eyebrow at the plate in front of him. “And what’s that?”

“This?” he says, smirking. “It’s a birthday cupcake.”

Daisy sits down, looking at the thing like it’s so wondrous she can’t believe it’s for her. It makes Coulson wonder what kind of birthdays she’s had in the past.

“It’s huge,” she says.

It has her name written with sugar icing on top, and a tiny flower. And one little candle. Coulson really enjoys the way Daisy is looking at it; he was afraid she wouldn’t welcome his gesture. He didn’t do much, really.

“I didn’t have time to make it myself, I’m sorry, I just added the daisy on top,” he confesses.

He silently promises to bake something himself next year. Next year… that sounds good.

“You want to share?” Daisy asks.

“Why do you think I bought the large one?” he teases her. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

They spend some time talking mission talk between them, because they don’t seem to have lives at all. Daisy asks him to check how much her Spanish has improved and Coulson makes a bit of fun of her accent. It’s a nice night. He knows she’s had another nightmare tonight and there’s a bit of dark under her eyes that this past month hasn’t erased, but this feels good.

“How are you feeling?” he dares to ask, because he hasn’t in a while, and somehow it doesn’t feel intrusive tonight.

Daisy stares at him, like she’s seriously considering the answer.

“I’m okay,” she says, simply.

The best part is, Coulson believes her.

“Good,” he says, smiling at her like a fool. Giving himself away, he fears. Maybe Daisy won’t mind. Maybe he can spend the rest of his life quietly in love with her and as long as he gets nights like this, as long as he gets to help her and share a cup of coffee at three in the morning from time to time, he’ll be happy.

“Coulson…”

She covers his hand with hers.

“Thank you for doing this,” she says.

“Of course.”

He looks down at Daisy’s fingers splayed across his wrist. He stares at them, fascinated. When he lifts his head Daisy is close to him, pressing her lips against her mouth.

It’s sweet, so different to their first kiss - not that he didn’t like that one, he did. It lasts barely one breath, or a heartbeat, and when she pulls back Daisy has a doubtful expression on her face.

“Is that okay?” she asks in a tiny voice. Coulson knows her, she has probably felt uncomfortable about what she did in his office that night, being too aggressive. She probably feels like she imposed on Coulson. Has she been wondering that maybe Coulson didn’t want to do it? 

He nods slowly.

“Really okay. I just didn’t think you’d-”

Daisy looks mortified for a second.

“I’m sorry, I should have done something earlier,” she tells him. “It was just… awkward. Because we’ve been through so much stuff together. And I didn’t know if you felt… stuff. Other than wanting to help me.”

“I feel stuff. I definitely feel stuff.”

He hurries to kiss her again to prove that he does indeed feel stuff.

 

**vii.**

_They tempt her to come back. Even tonight of all nights._

_They promise her happiness, completeness._

_They remind her of what she gave up, for something as silly as protecting humanity._

_“We’re not humanity. We could have been magnificent. We could have been whole.”_

_Isn’t that what Daisy had wanted all her life? To feel whole?_

_Even in dreams she realizes that’s a lie. What she has wanted all of her life was not to feel alone. And there are many ways of achieving that. And tonight of all night the hivemind’s taunts, their pull to get her back, are more inefficient than ever._

 

“Okay?” Coulson asks, as Daisy opens her eyes and Coulson wipes her cheeks.

She nods, giving him a familiar smile.

They’ve been through a few nightmares together already, without planning it. Coulson never planned this.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She touches Coulson’s face, thumbing the line of his jaw. “You’re still here.”

She sounds surprised.

“Of course I’m still here.”

He laughs softly, Daisy is a fool, and he kisses her, still a bit fascinated that he gets to kiss someone like Daisy Johnson any time he wants to.

She arches her body against him, completely awake now, holding Coulson’s head in her hands, cradling his temples between her fingers. She runs her thumb over his hairline, caressing the tiny scar hidden there. She doesn’t look so troubled as she used to, knowing she has left a mark on her body.

Now that he can think about it without feeling like his chest is caving in and crushing his heart Coulson finds it fitting - someone like Daisy, yeah, she leaves a mark. And it wasn’t her fault (and maybe he still believes is his, but that has stopped being important some time ago) but it’s just one more thing that connects them.

Daisy takes his hand, threading their fingers together as Coulson’s kiss leaves her breathless.

“Do it… like the first time,” she asks. “Like in your office.”

It wasn’t the greatest of beginnings for a love story - and it is a love story, it makes Coulson feel embarrassed and clumsy to admit it, but he will - and he gets why Daisy would like a do-over. He doesn’t regret it, of course. But recapturing the moment to make it better is not a bad idea, he thinks, as Daisy kisses him hungrily, drawing her teeth over his bottom lip. And it’s a very Daisy idea: rewriting history. Their history.

He moves his hand between their bodies, kissing Daisy until she closes her eyes and relaxes against the pillow.

This is what he would have wanted to do that first night, take his time, untangle her from her own demons. He undoes the laces of her pajama pants slowly, while his other hand strokes Daisy’s face, his thumb drawing the line of her mouth, pushing inside her mouth and his prosthetic fingers repeat the gesture between her legs. Love fills the spaces the limits of technology can’t reach and Coulson feels her wet and hot under his hand.

“Yes, like that,” Daisy mutters, lips around his finger.

This is what he would have wanted to say that night and couldn’t.

“I love you.”

Daisy smiles with closed eyes, wrapping herself around his fingers.

 

_Is it even a nightmare when you know it will end, and the other side of it you’ll find the arms of someone who loves you, someone who loves you so much more than you ever thought anyone could love you, more than you ever thought you’d deserve but who makes you feel like you deserve it? Is it even a nightmare when it’s a little hiccup midway a warm, safe night tucked against Coulson’s back or his chest or under his arm, his chin, against his quiet unfaltering kindness? What’s a nightmare when it has lost all its power? Where do curses go when they are broken? Daisy suspects the voices are still there, under her skin, and they call when she is asleep because she will always be part of them - they are there, but she can’t hear them, not while pressed against Coulson’s heartbeat. Loud. Hers._


End file.
